May 13, 2010.
Domodossola. Only a few minutes before we get to the Swiss border.
A few hours ago, my mum, sis, and I bade farewell to Dad, as he was left behind in Turin to prepare some stuff to take with us back home. We were to go back to Manila after two days.
The train’s chugging along the hilly landscape from Milan, all the way to Geneva, our destination. I was watching an episode of American Idol on my iPod nano. Sis was eating some chips, while Mum was just there, sleeping. She must be tired from this 5-hour trip.
I looked outside the window. There’s a lake on my right. Its beauty allured me to think about the arguments I had with Dad a couple of days ago.
He did not approve of us going to Switzerland, because for one, the Spain-Portugal trip was already proved to be pricey because we didn’t get Eurail passes, and the lack of rest due to country hopping proved costly in terms of our health.
We have to go to Switzerland, I muttered. I mean, this Eurotrip will not be complete without the taste of the Swiss chocolates and the tour around the exquisite lakes and the affluent houses situated on top of the hills, overlooking the crystal clear waters of Lake Geneva. Not to mention, some of my mates have been there, while I haven’t. It’s the competitive spirit that drives me to take this last sightseeing trip of the month.
I got disturbed from my pondering when the train stopped at Domodossola station. A group of Asians got off with their heavy backpacks, while talking amongst themselves very loudly in what might seemed to be Korean. Behind me, a couple of young Caucasian girls were laughing very loudly at the sight of the lost Koreans as they were standing on the platform.
They kept on pointing at them and muttering/snickering in French. For all I know, they are so racist and rude.
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It was already 9 in the evening, and the sun was just setting. We already passed by Montreux, so it means that Geneva will be the next stop.
We were prepping up to get off, when my mom’s mobile rang. She answered the phone and talked in Tagalog. Then, I heard the Caucasian Swiss girls behind us giggling again, and tried to mimic my mom’s tone and speech.
My sis looked at me, and she seemed disgusted. I felt the same way. I was so tempted to tell them off, but how can I do that? It’s their land, and we’re just visiting. Plus, their status seemed to be better off than ours because they have the money to shop in Milan’s high streets (based from their Prada and Gucci shopping bags with them).
Yes, I know that you guys have a better quality of lives than me and my family, but how dare you guys have the audacity to look down on other nationalities.
Finally, after what seemed to be forever, the train finally stopped at Gare du Cornavin in Geneva. I ushered my mom and sis to get off quickly, before we were to be further scrutinized by those teenage girls.
We were heading to the exit when I saw the girls again, from my peripheral. They were being picked up by a 40-year old lady, also Caucasian. It must be one of the girls’ mum, I thought. And there was this man on a chauffeur uniform getting the 20 shopping bags they were all bringing.
I told my sis what I saw and she said, “Oh those stupid rich bad asses.”
I laughed at the end and told her that, we will also be like that someday, just shopping until our wallets can bleed no more, minus that rotten attitude.
2 comments:
Racism is like a reflex that protects a nation's identity. I'm not saying that it should be tolerated. Actually, it sucks. However, it's inevitable so, we need to learn how to deal with it. Our little deeds to correct it may be initially futile, but influence is a great agent for change. Someday, it may transform the view of a rotten society.
True. I can go on and on and rant about how multiculturalism will ultimately fail someday, as what Angela Merkel said.
Cultural differences already play a big factor in the formation of various perceptions and stereotypes. The only way we can do is to be open minded. Then again, Society is one big stubborn entity.
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